Separation
by A Beautiful Beast
Summary: After fifty-one years, they were forced apart. Thirty-two days later, they met again. AusHun, K because I'm paranoid.


**This was just an itch I needed to scratch; hopefully it'll get me out of this slump I'm in. *Sigh* To those of you following my one-shot challenge, I'm really sorry. Writer's Block's a female dog. **

**This most likely isn't historically accurate, and might be OOC. Oops.**

* * *

This is it. Today was the day Roderich will leave her.

Elizabeta gets dressed automatically, her head overwhelmed with the realisation that after fifty-one years, she will no longer be Roderich's wife. They will no longer live together, and barely see each other.

She stands by the door as the last of Roderich's possessions are carried away. The man himself follows a few steps behind the last of the movers, and halts in front of his now ex-wife.

"Goodbye . . . Hungary," he says softly, the country's name sounding odd on his tongue. Oh, right. They are to refer as to each other as Hungary and Austria now, not Elizabeta and Roderich.

Elizabeta swallows softly. "Goodbye, Austria." In a sudden moment of spontaneity, she reaches up and kisses him gently, revelling in the softness of his lips. All too soon it's over, and he is beginning to walk away. He glances over his shoulder one last time, their eyes meeting for the final time in what would most likely be weeks, or even months, and then he is gone, along with the other half of her heart.

No, that isn't right. He isn't half of anything. He_ is_ her heart, the whole heart. He isn't just someone she has fallen in love with, he is part of her; they are one person, separated into two bodies. Being apart feels _wrong_, in the rawest sense of the word. That's all she can describe the hollowness as: wrong. The soft sounds of the piano should be there right now if she were to try and strain her ears, instead of nothingness.

Somehow, she finds her way up to a room with a bed in it; not their—now her—room, just an extra room with a bookcase and a floral pattern on the sheets of the bed. Elizabeta pulls the sheets around her, not crying, but listening to the silence as it surrounds her like an invisible blanket; wrapping soft tendrils of security around her body.

She's not sure how long she sits there, listening to the whispers of silence, and to be honest, she doesn't really care. When she emerges, she is strong again. The emotions are buried so deeply they are barely scratches on the surface of a titanium shield.

She carries on as per usual—or as usual as it can get when there are no strains of piano music to be heard, no rooms she can enter without memories of him popping into her memory.

* * *

It's been exactly thirty-two days when she sees him again, and she has to force herself not to grab onto him and never let go. Instead, she greets him with a polite nod, emotions bubbling not far beneath the surface. "Austria," she says, voice tightly under control.

"Hungary," he says calmly, and for a moment she is irrationally angry at his apparent apathy. How can he have so much control? Elizabeta's sure he can see the desperation in her eyes, and the Hungarian can feel her palms sweating. Roderich—_no, Austria_, looks so relaxed.

She doesn't notice how long she's been staring until he speaks. "Come with me; I want to show you something."

He doesn't have to tell her twice. They walk down the hall in silence, steps quick but not rushed. Austria leads her to a room at the end of a small corridor, gesturing for her to enter. He shuts the door softly behind them, and takes her hands. "We can talk in here," he says. "There's no bugs."

Elizabeta's not sure what to say, so she just wraps her arms around Roderich's neck and kisses him, full of desire and want and need and emotions that just flood off of her. She can feel his lips move against hers, just as passionate and needy as she feels, if not more. The kisses are sloppy as they can be, but neither country cares because they're together again, if only for these brief moments.

It seems like only a few seconds have passed when he pulls away, and she can feel his warm breath tickle her skin. "We should probably get back," he says quietly. "They might miss us."

Elizabeta mutters something about ridiculous meetings under her breath but she obliges, sneaking in one last kiss before she departs. Roderich watches her go with a slightly dazed look, but heads to the meeting room himself, sliding into a seat beside Switzerland. The neutral country glances back at his childhood friend, raising his eyebrows and darting a glance at Hungary, who is seated between Prussia and Poland.

A slight blush reaches Roderich's cheeks, but he gazes steadily at Switzerland and raises an eyebrow as well, as if to ask, "what?"

Vash turns his attention back to the meeting, but smirks slightly.

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**Review? **


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